roleplay - beneath the waves
genre - historical fiction
concept - pirates
character - sébastien renaud, first mate
type - starter
word count - 895
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
▽ sᴄʀᴏʟʟ
genre - historical fiction
concept - pirates
character - sébastien renaud, first mate
type - starter
word count - 895
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
▽ sᴄʀᴏʟʟ
If only the winds would fight against them, he’d have more of a reason to discourage their venture.
Sébastien stood at the helm of the Howling Eel, one hand positioned on one of the prongs of the giant wheel, the other grasping a compass in his palm. He raised his eyes to catch the direction of the wind upon the main sails, attempting not to set his sights too high up the mast, lest he make himself dizzy. He could only assume the lookout had made her little home in the crow’s nest for the day, but he wouldn’t dare to raise his gaze high enough to confirm that. He’d rather much like to keep his head on his shoulders.
Shaking his head to regain his focus, he raised the compass up, squinting his eyes as he compared their navigation position to the heading he had been given by Santino. With his gaze switching between the compass and the sails, he nimbly guided the ship to correct towards their charted course. The sails caught the full brunt of the wind once more.
Though successful in his endeavors as helmsman, Bastien heaved an exasperated sigh. Sure, the weather was quite fair for sailing, and while he was not ungrateful for that (any sailor would be out of his mind to desire less), there wasn’t much thought to be put into navigation. Unfortunately, the wind seemed to be taking them right where they needed to go.
Not only that, but he couldn’t quite leave his post. With only two people on board allowed to man the helm, he was stuck here until he was relieved of duty. He just had a feeling that wouldn’t be any time soon.
He and the captain had gotten in a bit of a spat this morning, as he had brought up his concerns about their venture. It wasn’t the first time the two had disagreed about a course of action — in fact, he seemed to never really be on board with anything Dori proposed. Her plans were always too harebrained and risky for his liking. Yet, there hadn’t been one adventure of hers that he never went along with. Despite his worries, he always folded. Over their years together, he had learned to trust their instincts, perhaps even more than his own — and she hadn’t gotten him killed yet. There was a reason fae was the captain, after all.
But this? This was no laughable scheme or questionable opportunity that took him a few hours to warm up to. This was the Blind Jewel — the ship that doomed her entire crew to a fate unknown, the ship that was said to carry a thousand curses. Who knew what now awaited any ship foolish enough to sail for her?
Dori didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She had always been so — stubborn. Pig-headed, he had thought. Bastien had never gotten as frustrated at faer as he did this morning. Fae wouldn’t listen. How could she not see the risk that she put over them all? For what? The chance at the lost treasures that no other pirate crew had dared to pursue? He had gotten so exasperated that this time, he hadn’t been able to stop himself before he went too far.
“Oh, after all we’ve been through and all we’ve seen, curses are what you’ve chosen to be blind to?”
Oh, that one had gotten him in trouble. Fae didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say after that. Banished to the helm, he had been — and there he still was.
From his position, he could see her across the deck, glaring daggers at him — and he knew better than to return her gaze. He also knew they wouldn’t take what he had said to heart; they didn’t believe in the curses, after all. He always did enough worrying for the both of them. And, despite his efforts, he had folded. Fae won, again — and he could do nothing about it. The captain and the first mate were to be a united front towards the crew; to go against her in front of them would be to sow seeds of mutiny.
Well, maybe it really wasn't that he couldn't.
Maybe it was just that he wouldn't.
No, no; he would sail the Howling Eel into the arms of whatever darkness befell the Blind Jewel, for no more reason than because she had ordered him to.
He heaved another sigh. Damn him. He’d always be a fool for Dorienne Alda.
Defeated, he cast his gaze upward, his eyes squinting as they caught the bright light of the sun. They still had about half a day of sail ahead of them, and he was already tired. At least the deck was quiet, save for the wind in the sails and the waves against the sides of the ship — and the creaking of deck boards as the presence of their cartographer loomed over his shoulder.
Drawn out of his reverie, Bastien furrowed his eyebrows, straightening up a little and snapped his compass shut in indignation. “Santino — do you mind?” Bastien’s voice was low and unamused. He turned his head toward the young man slightly, peering at him out of the corner of his eye. He was in absolutely no mood for any mischief.
Sébastien stood at the helm of the Howling Eel, one hand positioned on one of the prongs of the giant wheel, the other grasping a compass in his palm. He raised his eyes to catch the direction of the wind upon the main sails, attempting not to set his sights too high up the mast, lest he make himself dizzy. He could only assume the lookout had made her little home in the crow’s nest for the day, but he wouldn’t dare to raise his gaze high enough to confirm that. He’d rather much like to keep his head on his shoulders.
Shaking his head to regain his focus, he raised the compass up, squinting his eyes as he compared their navigation position to the heading he had been given by Santino. With his gaze switching between the compass and the sails, he nimbly guided the ship to correct towards their charted course. The sails caught the full brunt of the wind once more.
Though successful in his endeavors as helmsman, Bastien heaved an exasperated sigh. Sure, the weather was quite fair for sailing, and while he was not ungrateful for that (any sailor would be out of his mind to desire less), there wasn’t much thought to be put into navigation. Unfortunately, the wind seemed to be taking them right where they needed to go.
Not only that, but he couldn’t quite leave his post. With only two people on board allowed to man the helm, he was stuck here until he was relieved of duty. He just had a feeling that wouldn’t be any time soon.
He and the captain had gotten in a bit of a spat this morning, as he had brought up his concerns about their venture. It wasn’t the first time the two had disagreed about a course of action — in fact, he seemed to never really be on board with anything Dori proposed. Her plans were always too harebrained and risky for his liking. Yet, there hadn’t been one adventure of hers that he never went along with. Despite his worries, he always folded. Over their years together, he had learned to trust their instincts, perhaps even more than his own — and she hadn’t gotten him killed yet. There was a reason fae was the captain, after all.
But this? This was no laughable scheme or questionable opportunity that took him a few hours to warm up to. This was the Blind Jewel — the ship that doomed her entire crew to a fate unknown, the ship that was said to carry a thousand curses. Who knew what now awaited any ship foolish enough to sail for her?
Dori didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She had always been so — stubborn. Pig-headed, he had thought. Bastien had never gotten as frustrated at faer as he did this morning. Fae wouldn’t listen. How could she not see the risk that she put over them all? For what? The chance at the lost treasures that no other pirate crew had dared to pursue? He had gotten so exasperated that this time, he hadn’t been able to stop himself before he went too far.
“Oh, after all we’ve been through and all we’ve seen, curses are what you’ve chosen to be blind to?”
Oh, that one had gotten him in trouble. Fae didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say after that. Banished to the helm, he had been — and there he still was.
From his position, he could see her across the deck, glaring daggers at him — and he knew better than to return her gaze. He also knew they wouldn’t take what he had said to heart; they didn’t believe in the curses, after all. He always did enough worrying for the both of them. And, despite his efforts, he had folded. Fae won, again — and he could do nothing about it. The captain and the first mate were to be a united front towards the crew; to go against her in front of them would be to sow seeds of mutiny.
Well, maybe it really wasn't that he couldn't.
Maybe it was just that he wouldn't.
No, no; he would sail the Howling Eel into the arms of whatever darkness befell the Blind Jewel, for no more reason than because she had ordered him to.
He heaved another sigh. Damn him. He’d always be a fool for Dorienne Alda.
Defeated, he cast his gaze upward, his eyes squinting as they caught the bright light of the sun. They still had about half a day of sail ahead of them, and he was already tired. At least the deck was quiet, save for the wind in the sails and the waves against the sides of the ship — and the creaking of deck boards as the presence of their cartographer loomed over his shoulder.
Drawn out of his reverie, Bastien furrowed his eyebrows, straightening up a little and snapped his compass shut in indignation. “Santino — do you mind?” Bastien’s voice was low and unamused. He turned his head toward the young man slightly, peering at him out of the corner of his eye. He was in absolutely no mood for any mischief.
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